


A Future to Build

by CJS_DEPPendent



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 07:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13313262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJS_DEPPendent/pseuds/CJS_DEPPendent
Summary: After the events of the Lighthouse, back in the present and in hiding, the team take a moment to breathe, and Phil considers the future he'd like to build.





	A Future to Build

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't make any money from this and I don't own them – but, oh, the fun they'd have if I did.
> 
> A/N: I am loving season 5 so far, but I REALLY just want them all to be happy! Especially May. I need the writers to just give her a break already. This is just my take on what I would like to see once they get back to the present and have a chance to breathe. Mainly Philinda, but with a touch of Fitzsimmons and YoyoMack.
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy, and please let me know what you thought.

Spending God-knows how long in Space had not been part of the plan when they’d stepped into that diner for some pie. Being propelled 74 years into a very bleak future had not even occurred to any of them on awaking from the framework. Returning to earth, however – returning to their _time_ – had been their _only_ plan up on the Lighthouse. Returning with an extra three people had not.

And yet here they were.

* * *

Returning back to their time had been a relief for all of a couple of hours, before the reality of what returning actually meant dawned.

Being in hiding was nothing new, but being _this_ deep in hiding was an entirely new ball game. There were no secret bases, no underground hangers or flying buses. With the world’s reaction to seeing Quake shoot General Talbot, the government’s policy on Inhumans had become one of capture or kill. There was no middle ground. So the team had had little choice but to relocate somewhere where they would not be found – and anything remotely related to SHIELD or the SSR would be too obvious.

Which is how they came to settle in The Farmhouse.

That was not a code name. It was, _actually_ , a farmhouse. With an actual farm. No animals, much to Daisy’s disappointment – though May was probably right that it would be impractical to keep animals when they weren’t _actually_ farmers.

But still, a farm.

It had actually been Yoyo’s idea: in Colombia, when drug cartels wanted to stay in hiding, safe and guarded, they had a preference for large compounds, lots of land, no one around for miles. Plus, all the farmland made it easier to land and hide a cloaked Zephyr – courtesy of Fitz and Hunter’s great adventure.

It had been easy too, a little hacking, a few fudged ownership records, and ‘Charles Drew’ – the cover Daisy had come up with for Sam Koenig – had become the proud owner of an otherwise abandoned farm house and lands in rural Wisconsin.

A little scrap and salvage work had gotten them enough tech for Daisy and the newly-engaged Fitzsimmons to set up a half-way decent IT system, and a little work from Mack and Yoyo – whose faces were, thankfully, still unknown to the public – got them enough weapons that the barn could be turned into their new armory; better safe than sorry.

Despite all this activity, Coulson decreed that there were to be no missions, no snooping for intel on General Hale, and no hacking into government facilities to check on Talbot’s status. Between Hive, the Framework and the Lighthouse, they probably only had a couple of weeks of quality, uncomplicated, robot-free, firmly-seated-in-reality-and-the-present existence between them. He wanted things to return to normal so they could all move forward – wherever forward might lead.

Rest wasn’t really in any of their programming – pun not intended – yet Coulson was surprised by how little resistance he received to the idea.

May had had the least choice: as soon as they’d found a safe place to hide, Simmons had all but forced May onto the sofa and finally taken a good look at her leg. It had infected; the wound was trying to heal, but kept breaking down and would not improve without some serious antibiotics and rest. Coulson had been ready to argue Jemma’s case, remind May that they all needed her at 100%, that their unexpected time-travelling companions needed all of them at 100%. But she hadn’t fought them on it, merely nodding her head with a curt nod and tight lips as the pain seared through her thigh at the slightest movement.

Fitzsimmons hadn’t put up a fight either, and had been content to spend their time helping with upgrading the Farmhouse ‘just in case’ – as Fitz had put it - and settling into a relatively ‘mundane, every day existence’ – Jemma’s words – something they both clearly craved.

The farmhouse had come with a large barn and a couple of smaller out buildings of varying sizes and utility. The small cottage off to the side of the property may have been the reason Daisy picked this particular property in the first place. Fitz and Simmons deserved a break – deserved to take a step back and live normal lives, to be engaged and happy, and not looking over their shoulders at every turn. They needed to heal, and their own space seemed to be helping them do just that.

Mack and Yoyo had similarly been more than happy to relax – to take new trials and tribulations at a more comfortable pace, if you will. They did their part to help ensure the team’s safety, especially given their relative anonymity – and, yes, Yoyo’s speed – but at the end of the day, they were happy to relax with the team and the newcomers, enjoying some peace, and restoring some faith.

Daisy had been tougher to wrestle into a break. Between wanting to find out about Talbot’s condition and what other atrocities her LMD had committed in her name while she’d been off time-hopping, Coulson had had to steer her away from their computers more often than she would probably admit to. However, two weeks into their return, it appeared that they had finally found something to entertain her. May had been right, all her protégé needed was a goal, something to work towards, so Coulson had given her a task, one she could easily do, but one that gave her purpose and kept her engaged.

Three clandestine time-travellers implied three identities in need of being created if they were ever to enjoy life on the Earth they had never known. Identity fraud was something Daisy could do in her sleep, but still, she took to crafting each new identity with such attention to detail, that at this point even they were starting to question who they were.

As for Coulson, he spent his days doing his own best to decompress. It had all been too much. Despite a lifetime of SHIELD and Hydra; of Aliens, and the Chitauri; of Loki’s scepter and T.A.H.I.T.I; of fallen comrades and murderous robots, it appeared that he had _finally_ had enough.

AIDA had been trying. The LMD _situation_ was best not mentioned. The framework he did his best to forget as the memories seared the inside of his skull every time he looked at Fitz or May.

 _May_.

But the lighthouse had been the final straw. Well, not the lighthouse _per se_ , ‘The Surface’. Finding her there. Cold, alone, bleeding and terrified – left for dead. It had very nearly broken him – nearly killed him until he heard her soft sob of relief as they approached, until he held her in his arms and felt her breath. Her heart beat.

The more he walked around their new ‘base’, the more he wanted it to be their ‘home’. The more he wanted not to need the weapons in the barn, or the cloaked Zephyr hidden behind the trees.

Fitz and Simmons seemed to have it right, he thought as he watched them from the porch of the farmhouse, Jemma attempting to plant a vegetable patch outside their cottage, Fitz never mentioning how their time in the Lighthouse had given them the technology to grow whatever food they required faster than a good-old fashioned vegetable patch could.

Because that was just it. Good-old fashioned was something they needed.

Taking a deep breath of the fresh air he had genuinely never thought he’d breathe again, Phil looked around the vast expanse of land around them.

Fitz and Simmons were happy, planning a wedding, planning a life.

Approaching them as they gardened, Yoyo and Mack held hands as Flint asked question after question about the Earth he had never even dreamt of. They were happy, they were moving forward, planning a life.

Somewhere back in the farmhouse he knew Daisy was probably keeping tabs on Deke – fake new identity or no, he was a liability and they all knew it; but he also looked around at the sky, the clouds, and the grass at his feet with the same awe-struck look with which Flint had just watching Jemma plant a carrot – he also deserved to enjoy the Earth he’d helped save. And maybe the Koenigs would be able keep him in line – maybe not Billy or Sam (who would no doubt be more interested in tales of how _Quake_ saved the Earth), but certainly LT.

Phil almost chuckled to himself. ‘ _If you don’t tell her I will,’_ those had been her parting words as she and her two brothers drove away from the Farmhouse. He had no doubt she’d make good on her threat, either.

With that thought, his mind reeled back to the master bedroom upstairs and May.

 _May_.

Smiling, he ducked his head, leaving Fitz, Simmons, Yoyo, Mack and Flint to their gardening, and made his way back upstairs.

* * *

“ _Thanks, Daisy_ ,” he heard May’s whisper as Daisy softly left her room, softly drawing the door closed behind her.

“Thought you’d be keeping tabs on Mr. Richard Poots,” Coulson said with a smirk as Daisy chuckled, the identity she’d created for Deke never failing to amuse her.

“Shortened to Dick, get it? Because he’s a—“

“Dick, yea, I know,” Coulson nodded, with a chuckle before his eyes focused on the door closed behind Daisy.

“She’s fine,” Daisy smiled as he looked away sheepishly at being caught worrying. “Who are you kidding boss?” she nudged him with an elbow, head nodding towards the door as she side-stepped him and headed back downstairs.

Quietly pushing the door open, Phil entered the room he’d been sharing with May since their very first night there. It had been a matter of practicality, he’d told himself when her soft voice had told him to stay that night. She was injured and needed someone close by. She trusted him. That was it.

But one night merged into another and even as she recovered and regained her strength, there he was every night. And just as one night had merged into another, an accidental brush of the fingers had merged into hands held together as they fell asleep, into her head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her, her hand on his chest, and a sense of absolute certainty claiming them just before their breaths evened and they fell asleep each night.

Standing in the doorway, leaning his shoulder against the frame, Phil watched the scene before him, and he knew May would roll her eyes at how goofy his grin was. But he didn’t care.

Watching May with Billy warmed him in a way that he couldn’t quite express. As she sat in bed, her left leg outstretched as per Simmons’ orders, an ice pack perched on her thigh, she was still flawless in how she held the baby, how she gave him his bottle and responded to his every cue; every sound.

“You realize staring gets creepy quick, right?” May asked from the bed, her eyes never leaving the infant in her arms.

“Sorry,” he replied immediately, feeling his cheeks flush as he shoved his hands in his pockets and approached her.

“Sit,” she said as she set Billy’s bottle on the bedside table and held him out to Coulson.

Taking the baby, Coulson felt the power in his left hand surge, the need to protect him, to keep him safe overwhelming him as it did every time he held him.

There was that certainty again.

Looking up at May as he held Billy on his knee and winded him, he knew.

Good-old fashioned. That’s what he wanted. _This_ is what he wanted.

“You’re going to retire, aren’t you?” May spoke his thoughts even as he drummed up the courage to broach the topic.

Looking back at Billy as he turned his head to look up at him, his eyes fixing on the now familiar face, Phil nodded.

“That makes two of us, then,” she replied as if the revelation were not unexpected.

Turning back to look at her, Phil searched her face for an answer; to what, he wasn’t sure.

“I never thought,” she looked down at Billy, brushing a finger over his soft hair as his eyes moved to fix on her, a gurgling sound emanating as he recognized her.

“I know,” Phil replied, knowing what she meant and not wanting her to have to delve into painful memories.

But she persisted, “after Bahrain, I never thought I’d get this,” she gestured to their surroundings.

“You deserve it, May, every bit of it,” he affirmed looking down to the baby in his arms. “You deserve to enjoy it, to have that life you always wanted,” he smiled at her.

The hint of sadness behind his blue eyes confused her.

“Where will you go?” he asked, his voice taking on an almost cracked quality, “back to Pennsylvania?”

A frown furrowed her brow for only a second, “Phil,” she spoke softly, a hand landing on his where it held Billy upright.

“You said— in the Trawler, I mean. You said you’d earned a night in your own bed, I just assumed…” he wasn’t looking at her, and it would be endearing if he wasn’t such an idiot.

Actually chuckling through her exasperated sigh, May shook her head and told him just that: “You’re such and idiot.”

Before Coulson could question that accurate – if a little offensive – statement, May scooted forward, her right leg tucked against Coulson’s thigh where he sat, her left still outstretched behind him, “where have you been sleeping for the past 3 weeks?”

Coulson looked a little perplexed at the question, the answer seemed pretty obvious, but it was clear May expected an answer, “here?” he almost asked.

Reaching up to place a hand on his shoulder, May’s eyes and face softened in a way that made his breath catch, “then _this_ is where my bed is.”

Despite how adorable his impression of a goldfish out of water was, May had had enough of the things they didn’t say, and the questions they left hanging.

“When I said I thought I’d never have _this_ ,” she gestured around them again, “I didn’t just mean Billy. I meant _this_ ,” she gestured between them. “We’ve been circling around this long in enough, Phil,” she shook her head, looking tired and almost defeated, “if you don’t want this, then just say so, but if—“

“I love you,” he cut her off before he even registered the words forming.

The silence that enveloped them was almost like the dust settling after a fight: quiet, slow, peaceful.

Billy’s whimper broke the spell as the two stared at each other, the words they’d held onto for so long suddenly hanging free between them.

As Coulson readjusted Billy onto his chest, attempting to soothe him before he started crying, May moved forward once more, this time capturing Phil’s lips with her own.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d envisioned. His hands were busy holding a fussy baby, he couldn’t hold her to him, couldn’t run his hand through her hair or wrap his arms around her. Yet, as their lips moved together, a soft whisper of “I love _you_ ,” escaping Melinda’s as her hand cupped his cheek and held him to her, he found that he was finally at peace.

 _This_ was right. Him, and Melinda, and a fussy, wriggling baby from the future.

No it wasn’t conventional. No it wasn’t what he’d planned, but it was exactly what he wanted. The rest they could figure out as they went because, thanks to their most recent adventure, they had a future ahead of them to build.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, I just want them to be happy!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> CJS


End file.
